Discovery: Homecoming
by Hera Ledro
Summary: The Biker Mice are on their way to Mars with a new companion, but evil is afoot. Can they protect the Regenerator AND save Charley from the Catatonians? RATED T FOR PROFANITY AND SEXUAL HINTS!
1. Prologue

**Homecoming**

_Disclaimer_ – God dammit, two years since I re-discovered them and I STILL don't own the rights to _BMFM_, much less the characters D= Oh, what I wouldn't give to own Throttle and Charley…erhem! I DON'T OWN SO DON'T SUE OR I WILL SMITE YOU WITH DUST-BUNNIES! So there.

_Prologue_

Cataclysm loomed over the Catatonian commander. His eyes bore straight into his inferior's visor; the glare was so intense that the commander quaked in his boots. Cataclysm was huge, easily seven feet tall with a build that put even the mightiest depiction of Hercules to shame. Suddenly his gargantuan hand lashed out and gripped the officer around his entire body, lifting him effortlessly into a face-to-face meeting with the hulking brute.

"What do you mean, 'They're moving to Earth'?" Cataclysm rumbled. "How did they get off Mars?"

The commander gulped, but the sound was fortunately muted by his uniform neck-guard. "A Martian transport b-broke through our lines, s-sir. We don't know how, but they hit us hard and fast, managing to get a transport through before we could retaliate. It jumped just as we trained our cannons on it. We – AAAHH!" The officer screamed aloud as he was thrown into a flashing dashboard. His body went right into the metal, wrapping itself up in severed wires. The current of the circuits went straight through his body, electrifying him on the spot. His screams could be heard down the halls, but not a trooper flinched, for fear that Cataclysm would train his anger on them.

Cataclysm thundered to the window of the bunker and stared out into the desert. _Damn, this changes everything…_ He turned to the nearest Catatonian. "You! Sound the evacuation signal. I want this bunker empty before dusk, understand?" As the trooper nodded and turned around, Cataclysm grabbed him and turned him back. "Leave the girl to me, understand?" The trooper saluted and left to do his duty, silently thanking the gods that he hadn't become the target of Cataclysm's rage.

Cataclysm turned back to the window, ignoring the flurry of evacuative activity behind him. He stared out at the blasting sand before turning on his heel and walking to the communications center. Flicking a switch, he activated a large monitor screen hanging from the ceiling. Flicking another switch, the screen turned on and hailed Ronaldo Rump and Cataclysm's degenerate brother, Hairball. Rump looked up from his model tower and leaned back in his chair. "Aiaiai, what is it now, _mi gato amigo_?"

Hairball was less attentive. Hannibal was rolling on the floor with a large ball of yarn, completely oblivious to the conference being called. Cataclysm, in no mood for games, leaned forward and snapped at him. "Get up you lazy runt and pay attention!"

Hairball jumped. At first there was surprise in his face, but it quickly turned to indignation. "Vhat do you vant, Catacleesm? I am busy vith ofeeshial beesiness."

Cataclysm growled at his brother before continuing. "The Mice are on their way to Mars, and I want to know what _you two_ are going to do about it. I am busy keeping the hostage, so my hands are tied."

"What happened, _mi amigo_?"

Cataclysm straightened up and looked at Rump. "A strike force attacked our blockade and a transport jumped through before we had the chance to catch it. Our forces on Earth are too far out to catch them, and if they're doing what I think they're doing then we won't be able to catch them anyways. This changes _everything_."

Hairball shrugged. "Vhat you vorried about, eh? Ve just vait for them on Mars and blast them vhen they enter the orbeet."

"Martians are smarter than that, _gato_," Rump admonished, scratching his chin. "We need a plan, _çi_? They will strike any defence we can muster to let the transport back through, so we need to get that transport."

"Why not just let them land on Mars?" Cataclysm said. "If we can catch them there, then they'll be out of our fur on Earth and the Regenerator will be ours for the taking. I have complete confidence that Dr. Katorkian can create a decent replica if we can get a new one."

"Da, and ve can skvish them like the bugs they are when they land!"

Rump leaned back in his chair. "Ci, ci, but what if they come with a – er, how do you say… – contingent? An escort? They will not be so easy to beat, _mi amigo_. I think they will catch on to us before long, _ci_?"

Cataclysm grinned. "Leave that to me. I'll deal with them after they land, you just worry about backing me up." With that, Cataclysm turned off the monitor and started for the detention room.

Cataclysm pushed a button on the side of the wall, and a swishing noise marked the opening of a hidden door. Laying in chains on a wooden bed was Charley. Cataclysm walked up to her and gripped her chin, only to jerk back as she snapped at him. "Quite a fighter, aren't you?" Cataclysm rumbled, grinning savagely.

"I learned from the best, furball," Charley gritted.

"Well don't worry about it, dear." Cataclysm's voice was soft and soothing, deep and gravelly. "'The best' will be out of the picture before long." With that he pulled out a remote and pushed a button. The chains sprang to life as a current of electricity ran through them, shocking Charlene into unconsciousness. Cataclysm unchained her and tossed her over her shoulder. "Yes," he mused to himself, "It's only a matter of time…"

**Author's Note**

Ooo! Short prologue, but what's gonna happen now? I have a challenge for you lot:

What do you think it gonna happen on Mars? Leave it in your reviews, PM me, I don't care, but I'd like to see how well you guys can sense foreshadowing (hint: most of it is in the last chapter of _Rock 'n' Ride_).

Till next time, BMFM fans!

~Jon


	2. Chapter 1: Into the Storm

**Disclaimer** – No mice are owned by me (sob ;_; ). Wish they were, but they weren't, but worry not! One day they shall be mine…BWAHAHAHAHA! Hera Ledro is owned exclusively by me. If you wish to use him, PLEASE PM me first (see the note in my profile for reasons). Same goes for Raptor and the new character, Throttle.

**Author's Note**

There's going to be an endnote system in this chapter. Pretty much any number you see beside a word will be in an explanatory note at the end of the chapter, rather than me memorizing all the explanations and putting them in an AN. Also, THROTTLE HAS A LAST NAME NOW! Nowai, rite XD Well no, not yet, but soon!

HOLY MUTHA *****!!! This is a LONG chapter for me. I've never written anything this length that wasn't a character bio, ever. And I mean EVER. So bear with me, and I want a lot of criticism here. Constructive of course; if any of you flamers decide to put your unhelpful comments into my story, I guarantee your computer won't live to see another sunrise, savvy? Yeah, I can do that, especially since I'm disabling anonymous reviews for this story, and your e-mails are listed in your profiles. The point: flame and you're screwed. Royally.

Those of you who have read my (going nowhere fast) sequel to _Cats Don't Dance_ will be pleased to know that I haven't forgotten it. Currently it is undergoing MAJOR re-writes, since I was far from pleased when I read it over a few months ago. I'll be doing similar work on my _Dissonance_ Redwall Fan-Fiction.

* * *

_**Chapter 1 – Into the Storm  
**_

The bridge of the _Tailwhip IX_ was a flurry of activity as it began its descent. All crew were at their stations, and the pilot was straining to keep the ship directly on course. Of course the General would be stingy and give them an out-dated and rusted model. Of course she'd give them only enough fuel to make the trip exactly as it was plotted. The pilot seethed inside, but kept a level voice as she reported to the Captain. "We're entering Earth's atmosphere now sir," the pilot reported. "Approximately half an hour until we land in Quigly(1) field."

The Captain nodded and leaned forward, his brown hair sticking out from underneath his flat hat. A solitary orange skunk-stripe went down the middle, peeking out from the rim of the hat. He leaned on his knees and chuckled. "No need to be so formal, Raptor. We're not reporting to the General yet."

Raptor smiled wryly. "Sorry, Captain Rimfire, I'm just…I'm still pissed at the General. She went out of her way to give us _exactly_ the right amount of fuel for a trip to Earth and the return trip."

Rimfire nodded and got up, walking to the vidscreen. "Yeah, Carbine can be…asinine, but I guess that's why she's up at the top; she don't take no bull from nobody." Raptor nodded half-heartedly. Rimfire sighed and asked the question he'd been dreading for a long time. "What are the stats on cat scan?"

Raptor was silent as she started typing away at a keyboard on her left. It was something she'd been worried about as well; how dense was the cat population here? The intelligence gathered by the escort scouts suggested that the main portion of the Catatonian fleet was on the other side of the planet, and the escort had already ripped through the immediate threat, but they still had ground forces to worry about. To be precise, they still had Rump to worry about. Everything that Commander Throttle had reported in the past suggested that Rump had STA(2) missile turrets positioned all over Chicago, and the only exception was Quigly Field itself. With that in mind, Rimfire had fought tooth and claw with Carbine for a decent cloaking device. It couldn't hide them from view, but it could jam scanners and keep any radio-controlled missiles or otherwise off their tail. Raptor still remembered how Rimfire had almost been demoted for his insubordination, but in the end he won out: they had an experimental cloaking device aboard the ship.

A few seconds was all Raptor needed to initiate a surface scan of Chicago. What she saw chilled her to her spine, and she called Rimfire over. Rimfire stared at the screen incredulously. "Do it again," he said. An intense look of fear was on his face. "That can't be right." Raptor re-initiated the scan and the same results came up.

There wasn't a furball in Chi-town.

Rimfire crouched down and looked at the wiring under the dashboard, going through a basic checklist in his head. _Yeah…okay that's right…hey wait! – oh no, that's right too…_ He stood up and took his hat off, letting his wild hair loose for the first time that day. "This can't be right…There's gotta be _some_ cats there; Chicago was – IS – their base of operations on Earth!" He growled and leaned over a nearby keyboard, typing madly. A quick message flashed on the monitor for that keyboard and Rimfire hit the dashboard hard. "They must be jamming the signal," he gritted.

Raptor shook her head. "Sir, I ran a diagnostic of Chicago, and did a double-diagnostic for Rump tower. Nothing I have shows any jamming devices, not even in the surrounding area." She started typing on the keyboard again, then shook her head. "The tech scan doesn't even show any technology in Chicago beyond that of the Terrans; no advanced tech – nothing – and if it were jamming us, I wouldn't be able to get a reading on the Commander's unit, but look here." Rimfire followed her finger to a trio of blinking dots on a nearby monitor screen. "I can get a reading off all three bikes, and you see these?" She pointed to another screen, where three yellow mouse-heads were flashing in a clump in a section of Chicago. "These are the trackers installed in their helmets, and they're showing up on my scans."

Rimfire walked back and sat heavily in his seat, deep in thought. It was something new for Rimfire, to have to do any pre-action planning. He'd always specialized in the spur-of-the-moment plans, so he was swimming in unfamiliar waters now. After a few minutes of silence, Raptor ventured, "Sir? What are your orders?"

Rimfire frowned and settled in his chair, turning to his Master Sergeant. "Take us down Raptor. Throttle(3)!" A white mouse turned in his chair and saluted Rimfire. "Radio the escort leader and tell him to have his team keep an eye out for any enemy movement. Scanners can't usually be fooled, but I don't want to have my tail handed to me because of some faulty equipment, understand?"

Throttle saluted again and turned around, picking up a radio and starting his transmission. Rimfire turned back in his seat and kept an eye on the hull, the myriad blazing colours from the friction of their descent making him think back to the days of the Plutarkian invasion. _But still_, he thought, _No cats are gonna get between me and my uncle now. I'm too close to let them ruin it all._

_

* * *

  
_

Throttle sat on his bike beside Hera, gazing up at the fireball which was descending into Chicago. "I reckon that's our ride," Throttle said simply.

Hera(4) shrugged. "We'll know soon enough. Get ready for a fight, though; it could be a cat trick." Throttle nodded but stayed silent, gesturing for Modo and Vinnie to move up to them and get ready.

Fifteen minutes later, Vinnie piped up. "That's definitely a Martian ship," he said decisively.

Hera cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

Vinnie pointed up at the ship, exponentially larger than it was before. "See those wings? Charley-girl designed them and put the plans in my bags before we left last time. When I got to Mars I found them and showed them to the General, and she thought they were brilliant. We only managed to make ten of them before the cats hit us, but they're the best spaceship wings we have right now. There's only a few left, I think, the _Tailwhips III_, _IV_, and _IX_. But that's definitely a _Tailwhip_ model transport." By now, all three of the others were looking at Vinnie incredulously. "What?" he grumped. "A mouse can't be up-to-date on what his babe did?"

Modo just smiled and shook his head. Throttle laughed and said, "When did you become such a spaceship expert? You've always been a bike jockey."

Vinnie shrugged, almost embarrassed. "Hey, you pick up a few things when you're helping in a Martian garage." Throttle just turned back to the approaching transport with a smile. Hera shook his head and walked off. "Where you going?" Vinnie called after him.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes," Vinnie said indignantly. "Can't have you running off when our transport's almost here."

Hera laughed. "Fine. If you really have to know, I'm going to the bathroom. I've got to get the number two out of my system; I'm sure that the Captain wouldn't appreciate me getting on the ship only for me to say, 'I have to go…'"

Vinnie blanched. "Oh, ew bro, I didn't need to know **that**!"

"You asked," Modo chimed. The grey giant was leaning back in the seat of his bike, staring up at the descending vessel. "I can't believe it bros…in a just a few hours I'll be on a ship and on my way to see Rimfire. Last time he was here, he wasn't much of a commander, but he's probably learned from that by now. Just think; he's already getting in his early thirties."

"Yeah, seems like yesterday I was sitting on the couch babysitting him," Throttle said dazedly from his position against his bike. "But he's not that much younger than us, bro. I wouldn't be surprised if he **was** a full-fledged commander now. Last I heard, he was kicking cat tail on Mars."

Modo sighed. "Yeah, he's gettin' high up there. Still, it's too bad he didn't grow as big as his uncle here; I woulda liked to have him look me in the eye."

"Well, you're gonna get your chance, bro," Vinnie said, pointing up at the ship. "Ship's here. Humph, I wonder what hard-ass captain we'll have this time. Ow!" Modo's palm lay itself flat across the back of Vinnie's head. "What was that for?"

"Show some respect, ya durn tool," Modo growled. "Whoever it is, you follow their orders, got it?"

"Unless I belay them," Throttle said smugly. "I'm still a rank higher than any captain, so if I don't like the orders, we don't follow 'em."

"Oh shit…" Vinnie whispered, looking up at the transport and its escorts. "Bros…it's gonna crash!"

"Naw, it won't crash Vinnie," Modo said, shielding his eyes from the sun and looking up at it. "It'll land right, you'll see." When the transport didn't slow down, Modo began to squirm. "Any minute now…" If anything, the ship began to speed up. Modo was visibly shaking. "Aw momma…"

Throttle jumped on his bike and revved it. "Back up, bros! It's gonna crash!" All three of them hit the gas as Hera came out of the bathroom. Seeing the approaching mice, he called out, "What's wrong—oof!" Hera was clotheslined mid-speech by Throttle. The mouse grabbed the Allsie and deposited him on his bike, ignoring the protesting alien. The indignity lasted only a moment as Hera looked up at the sky, and a small "Oh…" formed on his mouth. Ten seconds later, the bros were outside the stadium and looking up at the transport, only to find that it was slowing down and coming into a landing position. Throttle's eye twitched and Modo leaned back in his seat, panting out of sheer relief.

Vinnie was fuming. "Why those little bastards…I'll pulverize them!" he muttered in indignation. Throttle patted his shoulder, assuring him that they'd get their chance, but to wait. "Wait my ass," Vinnie groused. "As soon as I see them, they're deader than a cat with a mouse."

Slowly, the ship came to a landing position. Only when they heard the audible release of pressure from the atmospheric brake system did they venture back into the stadium.

The transport really was a piece of junk, but looked like it had once been a much nobler craft. Its body was sleek and rounded, but streaked with rust and wear. Both Throttle and Hera assumed that it had decent atmospheric shielding, or else it would have been ripped apart in descent (Throttle swore when he saw the state of the ship; he would have a talk with Carbine on that later). The wings were the only things on the ship in decent condition. The egg-shaped transport had sharp curved wings, angled forward like fangs. A second set of wings arched underneath those, a quarter as large and angled to the back. Four rusty engines came out of the back of the transport, smoke still trailing from their insides. Two bubbles stuck out from the massive body of the ship: laser turrets for use in the event of an attack.

When the hatch opened up, the Biker Mice almost fell off their bikes in surprise. Three people were coming out to meet them: a grey-furred woman (Vinnie's heart skipped a beat when he saw the multitude of scars laced over her arms), a white-furred male with robotic fore-arms, and Rimfire. All of them did a double-take when they saw Rimfire. He really was a picture of authority in his uniform, walking down off the ramp. It was even more startling to see a captain's insignia draped over the right shoulder of his uniform.

Throttle let out an amazed laugh. "Rimfire?" he choked out. "Bro, you seriously the captain of this vessel?"

Rimfire put on a military discipline act, but it quickly dissolved as Modo walked forward and gave him a bear hug. Trying to ignore his cracking spine, he spluttered, "Hey there, U-uncle Modo!"

"Oh goddess, Rimfire!" Modo said, pulling Rimfire into a better position for screening. "Look at you! A captain with a crew and everything! Good gods, I never would have thought **you** would have gone into the ship business!"

Rimfire shrugged and smiled. "They asked for volunteers to come get you, so I volunteered. My entire team is on the ship. I'm technically a commander right now, but for the sake of this mission I'm operating as a captain."

Throttle moved forward and gave Rimfire a heavy pat on the back which sent him stumbling forward. "Still a commander, eh kid? How'd you manage to keep that after your trip here?"

Rimfire smiled a devilish smile. "Oh, I had my ways, but mainly it's because I'm the only one left in the system besides you guys who lived through the Plutarkian Wars."

"No way!" Vinnie exclaimed. "What happened to everyone else? Scabbard and Train and all them?"

Rimfire sobered up slightly and deflected his eyes from Throttle's. "They…they're all dead. I wasn't kidding when I said I was the last one. Everyone else is either dead or captured by the cats or fishes." Suddenly Rimfire shook his head. "Gah, getting all mushy here. Look, we have to go. Something about this doesn't feel right; we couldn't get any cat signals from the Chicago area at all."

Hera stepped forward, but Throttle blocked him with his arm. "What do you mean you couldn't get any signals?" the biker asked with a frown. "That would mean that there are no cats here at all, and we pushed a group back two days ago."

Rimfire frowned, but shrugged. "If that's the case, then they've hightailed it out of the city. I still don't like it; if they're hanging around, then they could be jamming us somehow. Our escort is keeping an eye out, but I don't want them to get into a fight if I don't have to. We should get going." Throttle nodded and signalled everybody to get on-board. As the bikers moved to get ready, Rimfire turned to Hera.

Aside from the point in which Hera had moved forward to comment, the Allsie had been silent throughout the exchange. Even now, as the bikers revved their bikes to get onto the ship, Hera stood stock still, observing Rimfire. Hera's scrutinizing black eyes sent chills down Rimfire's spine, but he didn't shift his gaze.

Finally, Hera said, "It's good to see that we'll have a competent commander. The one that got me here last time was horrible; we're still working on cleaning up the damage." Rimfire cocked an eyebrow. Hera shrugged. "What? You thought I'd go off on a tangent or something? I'm here to help, not to make your head spin with perplexities and paradoxes."

Rimfire let out a dry laugh. "Oh? What makes you think you can confuse me?"

Hera smiled. "When is red also blue?"

Rimfire laughed. "Easy, when it's purple. Or when an angry guy is also sad. There's a lot of different ways to answer that question, depending on how you look at it."

Hera smiled and nodded. "Alright then, you just proved my point: you're a competent commander."

Rimfire opened his mouth, but stopped as he was about to talk. What did that mean? How in the world had he just proved the big blue's point? "What are you talking about?" Rimfire asked. He was baffled; completely nonplussed. "How did I just prove your point?"

"Simple: you can think outside of the box. Competent commanders are people who aren't limited by a set way of thinking, people who don't think only inside of the box. You just showed me that you understand that there are multiple perspectives to every question, and that the answer to the question depends on that perspective. You can look at things from different perspectives, ergo you are a competent commander, like Throttle."

Rimfire cocked his eyebrow again, still a bit unsure, but Throttle just patted him on the shoulder and smiled. "Don't try to understand it, just go with it." Rimfire shook his head and muttered something under his breath, causing Hera to laugh loudly and pat the mouse on the back.

"Come on Rimfire, let's go," Modo called from the ship. "I wanna see your new skills in action!"

* * *

"Keep your eyes on those scanners, Throttle," Rimfire ordered. "I don't want anything getting near this ship if it's not our escort. Make sure you have diagnostics being run the entire time, even if it's on auto."

"Yes sir Comman—oh, you were talking to the kid." Throttle planted his face in his hand as he misinterpreted Rimfire's orders for the nth time. "Rimfire, buddy, we've gotta work out a system where we know you're talking to me and not Snowball Jr. over there."

"DON'T CALL ME SNOWBALL, YOU JERK!" Vinnie roared. He was about to indulge in very colourful language when Modo clamped his metal hand over the white mouse's mouth.

"Shut it," Modo growled. "There's ladies on board." Modo looked apologetically at Raptor and blushed deeply as she sent him a sensuous wink. _Oh, Momma…_

Rimfire turned to Throttle. "What if I just call you by your clan name? Erm…what **is** your clan name, anyways?" Unexpectedly, a hush descended upon the entire bridge. Suddenly feeling scrutinized, Rimfire shuffled nervously. "What, is it something I sai—OW!" Rimfire held the back of his now-throbbing head and turned back, only to see his uncle Modo standing over him with his flesh hand raised from cuffing his nephew, completely aghast.

"Rimfire!" he admonished. "What's gotten into you! You don't just up and ask someone their clan name! Your grandmother would be ashamed."

Rimfire huffed and folded his arms indignantly over his chest. "Hey, it's not like I was asking him to let me hold a loaded blaster to his head, and we need to work out a decent system here."

Hera turned from his position at the door. "I assume asking someone their clan name is rude among your people?" he asked Throttle.

"Worse than rude," Throttle explained. "It's a matter of security. Clan names are kept a secret so that grudges from the past can't come back to haunt us."

Hera frowned. "Grudges?"

Throttle smiled sadly. "Yeah. We weren't always as peaceful as we are now, you know." When Hera gave him a look, Throttle pressed his point, "The clans used to be at each other's throats over everything. About two hundred years or so ago, there was a huge Clan War."

"It was a free-for-all bloodbath," Modo said quietly. "Nobody sided with nobody but their clan, and everybody was suspicious of everyone. Back then, every clan had an elder knew the clan names of all the clans, and every elder knew the enemies of the clan."

"The only way we could end the war was for the Gamma clan to gather all the elders in one place and assassinate them," Throttle said. "Instead they gathered all the clan chiefs together and worked out a treaty of secrecy."

Hera couldn't help but laugh. "You're joking?" When he stopped laughing and saw that they were dead serious, he became incredulous. "Wait, that's all it took? No way that it was _that_ easy to end the war."

"It wasn't," Vinnie said bitterly. "But the whole story is a lot longer than that. You're just getting the cut-and-dried version."

Hera turned back to Throttle, curious. "So what happened then?"

Throttle leaned against the dash and folded his arms. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the other Throttle. The soldier's voice was deep and soft, but dripped with raw bitterness. "Then the biggest battle of the war was fought." The white mouse rotated his chair and looked directly at Hera. The blatant adolescence of him caught Hera off guard; there was no youthfulness in his dry, bitter voice. "It carried on for two months, and by the end of it more than half the Martian population was dead. After that the chiefs swallowed their damn pride and decided to end the war, and finished writing up the treaty." Silently, he turned back to his ship console and continued with his mappings.

Rimfire looked impressed for a moment, but shook his head and looked back to Modo. "Never did pay much attention in my history classes," he admitted sheepishly.

Throttle picked up where his white namesake left off. "After that, clan names were erased from public documents. Now we only entrust our names to our closest friends."

"Only four people know mine," Vinnie said softly. "My bros, Stoker, and…" Vinnie mumbled something else inaudible.

"Clan names aren't something we give out lightly," Throttle mumbled. "Tensions between Martians are higher than ever since the Plutarkian Wars. We don't know who to trust any more, so we only tell people we've formed close bonds with."

Hera nodded in understanding. "Yes, I can see that," was all that he said. "But you guys have known Rimfire for a long time, right? You can trust him, I'm sure."

Throttle nodded. "Yeah, we can trust the kid."

"It's more the principle of the matter," Modo said, glaring steel daggers at his nephew.

"Hey, it was a slip-up!" Rimfire exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "It's not like I make a habit out of it!"

"Better not," Modo growled, "Or I'll smack you so hard that Mars herself won't be as red as you." Rimfire blushed, but didn't lower his gaze. He was about to make a retort when a buzzer rang and a green light flashed over the bridge.

"Sir," Raptor called. "We're being hailed by our escort leader, priority one."

Rimfire turned in his seat and pressed a button, silencing the alarm and shutting off the light. He jammed a series of buttons. The vidscreen scrolled down and the helmed head of the escort leader came into view. "Sir, we have multiple hostiles entering firing range. We have a visual; they're a mix of Plutarkian and Catatonian battle fighters, about ten."

Rimfire thumbed his chin, thinking. What were stinkfish and fuzzballs doing together, on the same side? There was no way they'd both get a Regenerator apiece, especially not if they were intent on vaporizing the mice. Rimfire started out of his reverie when the pilot inquired for orders. Sitting straight, Rimfire gave out what he prayed would be an effective gambit. "Corporal, stand by in defensive formation. If they move into attack position, open fire, but otherwise do not engage in combat. Understood?" When the escort leader saluted and cut off transmission, Rimfire stood up and elaborated. "We're going to engage in negotiations."

Rimfire didn't flinch from the collective "WHAT?!" from the inhabitants of the bridge. Throttle stepped forward and turned Rimfire around to face him. "Are you nuts kid? You want to _talk_ with _Plutarkians_ and _Catatonians_? Did Modo hit you too hard?"

Rimfire stared at Throttle levelly. "Not at all, Commander. We have something that they want; they'll never attack us if they know we have the Regenerator on board."

"You want to advertise the fact that we're carrying the ace-in-the-hole for all of Mars?"

"It's a good plan." Nobody realized where the voice came from until the Master Sergeant stood up and walked over to Rimfire. "They can attempt to board us and take the Regenerator, but we can keep it in hostile lockdown."

"Hostile lockdown?" Vinnie asked, his ears perking up. A grin was stretching across his face; he liked the sound of a hostile lockdown.

"Hostile lockdown is where we hold a valuable asset under threat of destruction," Rimfire explained. He walked over and placed a hand on the Regenerator. "Since our little baby here isn't alive, I have no trouble keeping it in hostile lockdown. And they won't sacrifice the Regenerator, not when it's the deciding factor in this war. And we also have a much stronger force; we've only got six RYNO-V fighters in our escort, but we have two RYNO-V fighters in that sad excuse for an on-board hangar and a set of really kick-ass BMFGs. Ten fighters couldn't do shit to us in a firefight."

"Rimfire," Throttle said slowly. "Think about this. They would rather blow up this Regenerator than let us get away with it. They can go to Rump for his if they blow up ours."

Raptor turned around and shook her head. "No they wouldn't, Commander. If that were the case, they'd've done it long ago. They can't duplicate one yet, and if your intel is right, then Rump's Regenerator is too deteriorated for them to make a proper copy of it."

Vinnie let out a hoorah. "Aaaoooww! I LOVE this plan! Get to fry some fishes and keep the Regenerator at the same time. Awesome!"

"We're not frying anything, Vinnie," Rimfire pressed. "We're giving them a chance to walk away. If what the Commander says is right, then we can take 'em out easy, but unless they engage us we will **not** engage them."

Throttle shook his head. "Modo, Hera, help me talk some sense into this kid." Modo just shrugged.

Hera did likewise, but elaborated a bit. "Personally, I think it's a good plan. We're not risking the Regenerator any more than we're risking our lives, and with the firepower we have, that's really not a big risk. Sure, it's a risk, and we shouldn't take it, but I don't see a better way."

"Vape 'em," Throttle said severely. Vinnie crowed his approval, but Hera shook his head. "No," the Allsie said, "That would be wrong. I want to fry them as much as you, but that's not the best way to end war. Violence should be used only when necessary; never should it be used at whim."

"Aw man, what a buzzkill," Vinnie said. He mumbled something about a cliché pacifist, but was silenced by a look from the Allsie.

"Hey, these are stinkfish and cats we're talking about," Rimfire said. "Chances are that they'll take their chances and open fire, so you'll probably get your action. And even if they board us, we have one last trick up our sleeve?" At Throttle's inquiry, Rimfire smiled and gestured at Hera. "The big blue, bro. Those bastards won't know what hit them if they walk in and Hera over there walks up behind them and cuts all their heads off with that kick-ass tail of his." Hera flicked his tail appreciatively, but didn't grace them with anything besides.

Rimfire walked back to his chair. Before sitting, he made a mock-bow and said, "Gentlemen, lady, let's whip some tail!"

* * *

"Let me get this straight, mouse," the Plutarkian leader said across the transmission. "You have the Regenerator, and you think that we won't attack you? How do we know you even have the Regenerator?"

Rimfire suppressed the urge to wrinkle his snout; just seeing the stinkfish offended the olfactory senses. The memory of that awful raw stench forced more memories to surface, memories of the war and fighting Stilton during his Martian occupation. Rimfire didn't reply to the Plutarkian, but signalled Modo to bring the Regenerator into visual. "A trick," the Plutarkian accused. "Show me that it's real."

Rimfire had anticipated this as well. With another signal, Throttle stepped forward and pressed a button. The tan mouse still wasn't sure about this plan; one wrong move and they could all be wiped out, and Mars would never win. His doubts weren't reflected in the water that came from the Regenerator, however; he kept his face completely passive. Like Rimfire, though, it was very difficult for Throttle to keep himself from covering his nose. The mere sight of the raunchy fish was enough to send anybody into wretches.

The Plutarkian watched the water spill out of the Regenerator into a basin held by Modo. A second later the bowl was filled and the Regenerator disengaged. "Care for a drink?" Modo asked sarcastically, then downed the entire bowl in a single gulp. His eye glowed red as he stared into the face of the Plutarkian.

"I am convinced," the Plutarkian assented, "But what makes you think that this would keep me from blowing you to the seven scattered galaxies?"

"Because if you do, then my good uncle here will blow up the Regenerator, and then you'll have to go back to your masters and tell them that **you** lost them the key to this war. We'll die to keep it from the likes of you, cat or fish, so don't think that we'll just go giving it to you." Rimfire's voice was cold and hard as steel. "So it's in your best bets to just fly away. We've got lots of firepower, too, so we won't go down without a fight."

Rimfire was playing an interesting game, Hera thought. Not only was he pulling the enemy leader into a major dilemma, but he was boosting his opponent's confidence as he did it. Good tactics; overconfidence lead to underestimation, and with the firepower they really had, the overconfidence of the enemy would make the job of eradicating them ridiculously easy.

"Then you think wrongly, mouse. The choice you present me is the choice of ensuring the Martian defeat or ensuring the Martian victory. We go with defeat." With that, the Plutarkian cut off the transmission.

Throttle couldn't help but give Rimfire the "I told you so" look. Rimfire shrugged and started issuing orders. "Alright, let's give 'em a real fight. Vinnie, you're in a fighter. Throttle – you're my superior, so where are you going?" When the tan Commander replied that he was going in the other fighter, Rimfire nodded and continued issuing orders. "Okay then. Uncle Modo – you and Hera are in the guns. Raptor and Throttle, keep the ship intact. I'm going to go work the missile turret. Let's go!" Once everybody started to move into positions, Rimfire hailed the escort leader and gave the orders to move on the offensive. The escort leader grinned savagely before cutting off the transmission, and Rimfire felt the afterburners go on the ships surrounding them and allowed himself a smile before moving to his station. Truth be told, he'd been hoping for some real action.

* * *

"Alright!" Vinnie cried in exhileration. He and Throttle were running down into the mini-hangar on the lower deck of the transport. "Some action, finally! Man, I've been going through MAJOR explosion-withdrawal!"

Throttle sniggered. "You would've loved watching the Plutarkian cruiser I was on go boom, Vinnie. You could've seen that explosion from the other side of the ocean." Throttle pushed open the airlock and ran for the cockpit of a RYNO-V. He loved those fighters; they were just the right size and had loads of firepower. They were fast as hell, too, but tough to manoeuvre. As he engaged the manual piloting, he silently thanked Stoker for putting them through those ridiculously boring fighter pilot lessons. "Throttle to bridge," he called through the comm. "Requesting hangar opening."

"Affirmative," Raptor's voice crackled back. "Opening hangar door in three, two, one…initiating."

Just as Throttle's ship hummed to life, the hangar door screeched open and the vacuum of space pulled on the fighters. Throttle put his pilot's helm on and engaged the radio. "Radio check, three four eighty-nine. Yo Vinnie, can you hear me bro?"

"AAAAOOOOOWWWW! I read you loud and clear, fearless leader. Let's go fry some fish!"

Throttle laughed and released the anchors on his ship. It shot straight out into space. Throttle pressed a button on the aircraft lever and the engines roared to life. He laughed in exhilaration and shot out. "Alright Vinnie, let's whip tail. Can you get the one on my tail?" Vinnie's ecstatic war cry greeted his ears before an explosion sounded behind Throttle's ship.

"Got him bro. Hey, cover me while I go for that cat's ship. I've got him in my sights." Vinnie's ship pulled ahead, and Throttle could almost see the adrenaline-fuelled bloodlust in Vinnie's eyes as he passed by. Shaking his head, Throttle fell into position behind him and kept focused on his radar. Three dots around them – no, two. Vinnie let out another cry of excitement as the fighter he was tailing was blown to smithereens. "That's two down, Throttle. Man, they're not even making this a challenge!"

Throttle adjusted his manual blaster aim and engaged them. A quick barrage of blasts was all it took to keep a fish ship from getting on Vinnie's tail. He sighed. "I know. This is way too easy…" A thought struck him and Throttle trailed off. Another few seconds of thought, and he cursed his ignorance. "Vinnie, cover me! I've got to talk to Raptor and Throttle!" When Vinnie moved into position, Throttle activated the radio and hailed the ship. _Come on, Raptor, get on the line…_ The frequency crackled a bit and then Raptor's voice came through the radio. "Raptor here. What's the trouble, Commander?"

"Raptor, do a sonic sweep and compare it with the radar. Don't ask questions, just do it, and tell me how many there are on both."

Raptor was silent for a few minutes, and Vinnie blew up a fighter on Throttle's tail. Then, "Commander, there are a total of seventeen ships registered on the sonic sweep and only seven on the radar. You can't be saying that –"

"Those bastards are using Catatonian cloaking devices," Throttle finished. "Alert the escort, Rimfire, and our gunmen. Tell them to use sonic tracking with the radar, or else we'll be sitting ducks out here. They're going to try and board you, Lieutenant; make the turrets' top priority any craft closing in, and make sure you have a constant sonic sweep going on in the hangar."

"Affirmative, Commander. Thanks for the heads-up." Throttle disengaged the radio and re-connected with Vinnie. "About time you came back mouse," Vinnie said. "I've been tailing you and now I'm totally bored! Come on, let me go blast a few more!"

"Not yet Vincent. Don't rely only on your radar anymore. Use your sonic scan and radar together; they're using Catatonian cloaking." Vinnie let out a muffled curse. "Nothing can be done about it now, Vincent," Throttle admonished. "Let's just take 'em out."

"Will do, fearless leader, but you think you can get this cat off my tail? He just came up, and now we're playing tag the mousey – HEY! You bastard, you scratched my ship!"

* * *

"Die, you damn cat, die!" Rimfire yelled. His missiles hit again and he swore explosively. "Dammit, stand still! YES! Another one bites the dust! Haha, you see that Uncle Modo!"

Modo rolled his eyes from the turret controls. Hera gave Modo an I-totally-understand glance. "Always like this, is he?" the Allsie asked.

"Even when we were fighting off the stinkfish when he was a kid," Modo said. "Couldn't wait to get into the action. Still ca – hold on." Modo flicked open the cover of a flashing button and pressed it. "Go ahead, Raptor, what's the situation?"

"We have a problem with the enemy: they're using Catatonian cloaking devices on their ship."

"What are you talking about," Modo admonished, "I don't see any cloaked ships out there." Hera dropped his head into his hand and Modo clicked in. "Oh…Well, what are we gonna do about them."

Raptor and Hera spoke simultaneously. "Sonic scanning."

Realization dawned on Modo's face. "We have that, eh? Which button do we push?"

A moment's silence. Then, "There should be a yellow button with a green center to the left of your control wheel. Press that to initiate sonar. Make sure you use your radar at the same time, though; we don't want you hitting any friendlies. You got that?"

"Loud and clear," Modo said. Modo pushed the button and another screen popped down beside the radar monitor. Without turning to look, Modo called back to Hera. "Ready to fry some more fish, blue bro?"

Hera laughed as he pressed his own buttons. It was a low laugh, steeped in crazed exhilaration. "Oh yes Modo, I'm more than ready. Fry them for Stoker."

Jointly, the two gunsmen yelled out, "For Stoker!" and started firing at anything they deemed to be an enemy.

Rimfire shuddered as a chill crept down his spine. "Remind me never to get on their bad side," he said to himself.

* * *

Throttle shook his head in bewilderment. As soon as Vinnie's ship was hit, the white mouse went crazy. It was all Throttle could do just to keep him in his sights. And now, after a barrage of vacuum-compatible torpedoes and blaster shots, the cats and fish were fleeing.

"Aw bro, they're retreating?!" Vinnie yelled through the comm. "Get back here you cowardly little –"

"Vincent, cool it!" Throttle called. Total silence. "Look bro, they're beat. Don't make this harder than it has to be." Throttle turned his gaze to the sonar and the radar in turn. The blips that were retreating on the radar corresponded with the retreating blips on the sonar. That was good; that meant all the enemy fighters were retreating. He took a quick count of the friendlies and his stomach sank. Aside from himself, Vinnie, and the _Tailwhip_, there were only three other friendly vessels. Throttle pulled some toggles and set the ship on a docking course with the _Tailwhip_. "Come on, Vincent," he said through the comm. "Let's dock. I want to know how many we lost and how many we killed." Vincent radioed an affirmative and set his own course for the shuttle.

* * *

"We lost _how many_?" Throttle was absolutely astounded. Raptor's numbers couldn't be right. The fight hadn't even been that long!

"We lost three fighters out there. A few of our crew on the _Tailwhip_ got hit by the fish, too, so that's a problem. In total, we lost about eleven people; two per ship and five on board. We have three escort ships remaining and about fifteen crew, not including you four."

Throttle sat down hard on a chair. "Eleven in a small skirmish like that…dammit!" Throttle smashed his fist on his knee in frustration. "Were we that bad out there?"

"No, Commander," Raptor pressed. "The problem wasn't with us, it was the enemy. They hit two of the fighters before we realized they had cloaking. After that, one of their missiles broke through the shielding and created a sizable dent in the maintenance room. Five of eight technicians were in the room at the time, all near the wall."

"Their sacrifice wasn't in vain," the white Throttle said softly from his position at the wheel. "We're home."

The words echoed for a moment in Throttle's head before he registered them. Home. His first love: Mars. The place he'd once given up everything for, and the place for whom he'd do it again. Throttle got up and walked over to the bridge. Vinnie and Modo followed suit, gazing out at the red planet before them.

"Home," all three said. The _Tailwhip_ bleeped and buzzed as it began its descent into the dusty red desert that was once Brimstone.

* * *

"We'll have to be very quiet," Rimfire cautioned the passengers. "Mars may be our home, but it's still crawling with cats."

"Bring it on," Vinnie growled viciously. "I'll toast them like yesterday's breakfast."

"Hey," Rimfire snarled. He got right up in Vinnie's face, staring the white mouse down. "I don't care how much seniority you have, right now you're in **my** turf, so you follow **my** orders, got it? I don't want anybody screwing this up and losing us the Regenerator."

Vinnie stared right back. "Look here kid, Throttle's the only one gets to tell me what to do."

As the two firebrands bickered, Hera asked Modo, "Are they always like this?"

Modo just stared. "Vinnie is, but I've never seen Rimfire this pissed before. He's always been a hothead, but not like Vinnie. He's always reminded me of Throttle, only you know, a bit more temper'mental."

Throttle stepped forward and got between the two. "Alright you two, break it up. Rimfire, I _am_ the senior commander, so I say holds. Vinnie." He turned and looked his bro right in the eyes. "My say is that we follow Rimfire's lead. We don't know if things have gone for better or worse here, but Rimfire does. Until we get back to base and get debriefed, we do as he says, got it?" Vinnie mumbled something incoherently, leading to a smack upside the head from Throttle. "I said, 'Got it?'"

"I got it," Vinnie muttered.

"Good." Throttle turned back to Rimfire. "So how far's the base from here?"

Rimfire moved over to the ramp of the ship and pushed a few buttons to unlock the hatch. "Not far; I'd give it ten clicks at most. If we go into stealth mode, we can get there in half an hour, forty-five tops. We're _not_ going to be racing down the dunes, _right_?" Vinnie harrumphed, getting the hint.

A blast of wind heralded the opening of the hatch. Hera was caught completely unawares, shutting his eyes against the gale of sand and wind. "You could have given some warning," he yelled at Rimfire. "And what the blazes are you doing, opening a hatch in a sandstorm?"

"We'll have better cover in a sandstorm!" Rimfire shouted over the wind. "This way the cats won't get us."

"You know why, right?" Raptor yelled. "You'd have to be crazy to go out in a sandstorm!"

"Well aren't we just fuckin' nuts, then," Vinnie crowed. "I like your style, kid, AAOOOWWW!"

"Damn right!" Rimfire replied. "Secure your helmets!" When everyone had their helmets active (except Hera, who groused about having to fly through the sand), Rimfire bellowed, "Let's rock and ride!" A chorus of vehement roars met his cry as the bikes (and one blue-furred space critter) flew out of the hatch.

* * *

Half an hour later, the group stood in the umbra of a cliff shadow, shielding themselves from a particularly fierce gale of sand.

"Half an hour, eh?" Throttle snapped. "Yeah, half an hour until we get halfway!"

"I thought the worst of the sandstorm had passed," Rimfire scowled. "It's not like we could sacrifice the cover, you know!"

Throttle growled and walked back to his bike, leaning against the cliff and dusting off the Regenerator. "Should've known this was a bad idea."

"I'd rather the Regenerator get a bit dusty then be taken by the cats," Rimfire sniped. "At least this way we can still use it." Rimfire kicked the dust in frustration. "Gods, this storm is wrecking everything."

Hera sighed. He cast a look up the cliff, thinking out a plan. "I'll be back, guys. I'm going to climb the cliff; maybe I can find the eye of the storm and we can hold out in that."

"How are you going to do that?" Raptor asked sharply. "That cliff is beyond vertical, and I don't see how you can get up without footholds. Oh, and let's not forget that you'll get blown away by the wind if you try to fly." Hera quirked an eyebrow. Somebody was obviously in a bad mood. Sighing, he showed her the claws on his fingers. "Ah," Raptor said sheepishly. Nothing else was said as he latched on to the stone with his hands and ascended slowly.

It was painstaking, to say the least. Lifting himself was no great task, but the low gravity of Mars made it difficult for him to keep himself from overextending himself or overshooting his mark. In places he would latch on with a claw only to find that either the rock would crumble from too firm of a grip or it would fall out, anchored to the cliff by nothing.

Vinnie stared up at the ascending Allsie. "So, you think he can make that?"

"I dunno," Modo said warily. "He's done good, but I don't think anything can make that climb without falling at least once."

"He's had a couple of close calls, too," Rimfire's Throttle said quietly. "There aren't many places that he can get a decent grip on, so he's pretty much stuck with his claws."

"Told him it was a bad idea," Raptor groused.

"You realize that I _can_ hear you, right?" Hera's voice was audibly strained as he tried to keep his purchase on the rusty-coloured stone. "Either find a way to help me or keep quiet; I'm trying to concentrate."

Hera returned his attention to the task at-hand. The dusty stone was too soft and crumbly. No moisture held the stone together, nor was the gravity strong enough to keep it compact and latched together. More than once Hera would hear an "Ow!" from below as falling stone hit someone on the head.

It took half an hour before Hera Ledro finally reached the clifftop. Gripping the edge, he levered himself up slowly, careful not to overshoot and get blown into space by the sandstorm. Holding on to the cliff edge with one arm, he shielded his eyes with his hand and peered through the storm.

After gathering as much information as he could, Hera let go of the ledge and dropped to the ground. He didn't hear the cries of shock from his companions below, but focused entirely on the drop itself. He pulled in his arms and legs, keeping his tail locked straight to act as a rudder. Around forty feet from the ground, Hera curled his body and flipped over, keeping his form as compact as possible to avoid being blown too far by wayward gusts. When he landed, he used his tail to absorb some of the shock before landing in a semi-crouched position on the ground. He straightened up to see wide-eyes. Even Throttle's eyebrows had disappeared into his hair.

Ignoring this, Hera gave his report. "I can't see anything from up there; the storm is too strong. The very best I can do is try to blast us a path through, but so far as I can tell the wind is too strong for that. Anything I do will be inconsequential."

By now the group had shaken themselves out of their reverie. Raptor was the first to speak. "So what do we do, wait this out?"

Hera shook his head. "No, we go through. The storm is starting to die down; I can feel it."

"Are you dumb?" Rimfire asked incredulously. "We can't survive in that! It'll blow us into Valles Marineris by nightfall!"

Hera pointed towards the gale. "Look very carefully at the gusts. See the inner gales? They aren't blowing as hard as the outer ones(5). In other words, the storm is getting weaker. If we can break through that first wall of sand, we'll be able to ride the rest of the way."

Raptor snorted. "And how exactly do you plan to do that? It's not like we can just blow a hole through the sandstorm."

"Actually, we can," Throttle said. All eyes turned to him. "All we have to do is blast our way through the first bit."

"It would help if you rode slightly against the wind, too," Hera pointed out. "Try to fight the wind as much as possible while you blast your way through. The heat fluctuations will give you slight protection from the full force of the wind until you pass through the worst, then the rest will be easy in comparison."

Throttle thought hard. He wanted to go through with this, but the plan was risky. Patience meant a better chance of being detected by Catatonian patrols or scanners, but if they went through the sandstorm they risked a lot more than their lives. If even one thing went wrong, then they would be whipped about in the gales like rag dolls.

Unsure of exactly what was best, Throttle turned to Rimfire and his team. "What do you guys think? I think we should do it, but I'm not entirely convinced."

Raptor shook her head vehemently, while Rimfire's Throttle nodded wryly. Both hated the idea, but neither was helping the cause. The tiebreaker, therefore, became Rimfire, and the younger mouse found himself praying for invisibility when all eyes turned to him.

He gulped. "Erm…Well…Seriously? I think it sounds like a stupid idea. But," he amended quickly, "It's also the only chance we've got. Either we sit here and risk either the cats or fish finding us – not to mention sand raiders and the like – or we take the Regenerator through a storm and risk getting it busted into half a million pieces."

"Let's not forget us," Modo interjected.

Rimfire sat down hard on the ground and stared mistily into the storm. "Guys, I don't know. I mean…this is so much bigger than us. It's not just a yes-or-no question."

Modo walked over to his nephew and placed his metal hand on Rimfire's shoulder. "Hey, it's cool little buddy. This is totally normal."

Throttle nodded. "Yeah kid. Every leader goes through this."

Rimfire grinned wryly. "Even you?"

Throttle chuckled. "_Especially_ me." Inwardly, Throttle was still ashamed of what he'd done on Earth; to him that was the epitome of his susceptibility, his weakness to extravagant failure. He usually lived up to his loftier expectations, but the problem with high expectations is that the failures tend to be all the more spectacular. Throttle walked to Rimfire's other side and sat down beside the young leader. "Thing is that we _have_ to make this choice. This ain't even about Mars anymore. Bro, this is about an entire galaxy. If the cats get their paws on that Regenerator, then we can kiss our planet good-bye; they'll use it to get a big army; take over whatever they want. If the fish get it then they'll start their crap all over again, and we can kiss our planet history."

Rimfire still looked unsure, but didn't say anything. If anybody understood how tough this was it was Throttle; he'd been heading his group since the Plutarkian wars. But Throttle was groomed for this sort of thing; Stoker had taken him under his wing specifically because of his potential for leadership. Throttle was raised to make these choices. Rimfire…he didn't think he was cut out for it. He was from a backwater station, and had to work his way up through the military since his eighteenth birthday. Throttle got lucky that way; being a leader in the Freedom Fighters gave him war veterancy, and he was accepted into high ranks in the Martian military almost immediately. Didn't hurt that the General was his girlfriend, either.

Rimfire pushed these thoughts from his mind; now wasn't the time for self-pity. "It's time for action," he growled softly. He looked at Hera and then straight at Throttle. He gave a simple decisive nod. "Alright, let's do it."

* * *

"Remind me WHY we did this again?"Raptor yelled through the comlink.

"'Cause Rimfire and Throttle decided," Vinnie said simply. "They're our leaders; I'd like to shoot them with tranquilizers most of the time, but they're still in charge."

"Vincent, I swear I'd like to live in your world," Raptor sniped. They'd decided that for safety, they'd work in groups of two, so that they could watch each other's backs. Naturally, that left Hera out, but he assured them that he could take care of himself. Rimfire said screw it, that he'd go with Throttle and him, but Throttle backed the Allsie up, saying he could easily make it through the storm if he didn't fly.

Raptor was less receptive of the Allsie. After a quick row between her and Throttle, Rimfire's Throttle stepped in, grabbed Raptor by the ear, and dragged her over to her bike. After that, little was debated. It would be Throttle and Rimfire in one pair, Modo and Rimfire's Throttle in another, and Vinnie and Raptor in the last with Hera on his own.

And clearly the hotheads should not have been together. "Look, I'm not exactly happy about this either," Vinnie yelled back, "I'M FUCKING STOKED! Damn it, I've always wanted to do something like this! WHOA!" The wind lifted Vincent's bike off the ground for a second before it fell back down. Vinnie laughed crazily. "See what I mean? This is a blast!"

Raptor grumbled with frustration. "Dammit Vinnie, this isn't a vacation! We need to make it through this storm! If you die because of some boneheaded move, I swear I'll kill you!"

"Haha, too late sweetheart," Vinnie crowed. "I've already got someone who wants my head, and it ain't you. What's life meant if not to live, anyways? You gotta make life worth living, babe, not just sit around worrying about the what-ifs."

"Well that was uncharacteristically philosophical of him," Raptor muttered. Soon after – amid multiple screams of exhilaration from Vinnie – Raptor noticed the sound of the wind start to die down. Even better, she realized she could see through the dust.

Raptor stared through the storm. For a while, the change was negligible, but the fuzziness died down and she caught the outline of someone. Once they broke through the wall of blasting sand, she realized they were on the edge of the massive storm. _Can't believe we survived that,_ she thought. Straight ahead was Hera (_How the hell did he get here so fast?_ she wondered), but where were Rimfire and Throttle?

* * *

"Gods, this storm is terrible," Modo muttered. He turned to Rimfire's Throttle. "Yo Throttle, you got any readings on that radar of yours?"

"No," Throttle clipped. "The storm is interfering with the bike's transceiver, and all this dust is messing up my sonar. What about you?"

"Nothing," Modo affirmed. "Just dust, sand, and busted stone. Wish I could see better, though; this sand is screwing everything up."

"It's sand. Not like it's going to bust through these metal arms of ours. You know you could probably use that cryogen attachment to make a wall between us and the force of the wind."(6). Modo blinked, and Throttle could have sworn he heard gears clinking in the grey giant's head. He sighed and said through the link, "Point your gun towards the direction the wind is coming from and fire the ice gun."

"Oh yeah," Modo said, nodding vigorously. "I knew that." He and Throttle cut their blasters as Modo aimed his arm and fired. Throttle had to struggle to keep himself from rolling his eyes, but he stared appreciatively at the perpetually-forming wall. It was a dusty brown from all the frozen dust, but sufficiently large enough to divert a large portion of the wind from their path. Modo kept his arm trained ahead of them, making the wall ahead of time to keep as much wind off them as possible.

"Nice job," Throttle appraised.

"Hmph, don't get too excited," Modo growled. "I've made some upgrades, but this ain't mine; this is Plutarkian crap." Throttle nodded understandingly; he'd lost a lot to the Plutarkians, but he was lucky enough to grow up after the war. Surprisingly, the white mouse was only in his early twenties; he'd been a pre-teen when the Plutarkians were driven from Mars by the Martian military.

Modo's line of sight began to clear. "Hey kid, you see that? The storm's starting to die down. We're almost through!"

Suddenly, the two emerged from the storm twenty feet or so from Vinnie and Raptor. Modo and Throttle looked at each other with big grins on their faces. "Correction," Throttle chimed. "We _are_ through!"

* * *

"Remind me why I went along with this again?" Rimfire muttered through the link.

"Reward before consequence, Rimfire," Throttle chided, "Reward before consequence. The ends justify the means."

"Oh shut up with that geek speak and gimme English or Martian," Rimfire shot. Good-natured, of course, but with a barb of truth; Throttle was talking too philosophically.

"We get a better result this way than the other way," Throttle replied, then groaned slightly. His fingers were numb from constantly pressing the blaster buttons. "Blasted blasters…how much farther do you think we have to go, kiddo?"

"I don't know," Rimfire uttered. "Probably another few hundred fee…– WHOA!" Suddenly Rimfire's bike lurched forward and went spiralling overhead. "RIMFIRE!" Throttle cried. Forsaking the blasters, he pressed a button on his bike. A grappling hook shot out from the hull and hooked onto Rimfire's bike, flying behind them as the gale dragged it. Rimfire and his ride were drawn along like a kite in a hurricane. "Hang in there li'l bro," Throttle said, "I'll get you down. Bike, retract line!" The bike bleeped in response and started to reel the line in while still pressing forward.

Throttle only semi-responded when he cleared the storm. As soon as he was clear of the gales he turned his bike around and started to physically pull the line. He noticed the others were there and yelled over to them, "Help me! Anchor my bike down! Dammit, hang in there Rimfire!"

Immediately everyone responded. Modo, Hera, and Raptor leaned on the bike and tried to keep it grounded while Vinnie and Rimfire's Throttle pulled on the line with Throttle. Suddenly the line jerked and snapped back. The grappling hook flew down into the sand beside the bike.

"RIMFIRE!" Modo roared. He moved forward to run into the sandstorm but was beaten to it by Hera. The Allsie dove headfirst into the sandstorm, drawing his sword and using it to anchor himself to the ground. Within minutes he disappeared into the gales.

Modo cried out and rushed forward, only to be held back by Throttle. "Easy big guy, Hera will get him!" Throttle said, his voice strained from the difficulty of holding his giant friend back. Modo fought for a few minutes then stopped, kneeling spent and sobbing on the ground. He smashed his fist on the ground, making a small crater.

"Dammit," he cursed, "I shoulda got to him! Shoulda pulled the line harder…oh Rimfire…"

Throttle and Vinnie grabbed Modo and helped Modo over to his bike, where he collapsed into the handlebars sobbing.

"What do we do now?" Raptor asked in a strained voice. She was visibly fighting between grief and duty. Throttle sympathized with her.

"Right now we wait," Throttle said. "I'm not taking the Regenerator back to base without Rimfire. Hera will get him out." Everyone nodded except Modo, who remained bent over the handlebars.

Half an hour passed and nothing happened. The storm moved farther away and with it, Throttle thought, the chance that Hera and Rimfire would return alive from inside. Then he looked up at the storm and saw Hera burst out from the edge, dragging Rimfire with him. Throttle and Raptor rushed up to him.

Hera gasped from exhaustion. He ignored the others and turned Rimfire onto his back, examining the young mouse for life signs. _Pulse, check; breathing…shallow, but check. _Hera placed a hand on Rimfire's forehead. "He's got a temperature," Hera warned. "He must have worked himself half to death trying to keep in one spot. He's overheating."

Hera stared straight at Throttle. "We need to get Rimfire to the Martian base ASAP, or he'll die."

* * *

1 – I have to know, is it spelt 'Quigly' or 'Quigley' or what? The spelling confuses me on this issue, since both are phonetically correct D=

2 – Surface-to-Air

3 – What? Why can't Martian names be used between different members of the species? Much like the name "Ryan" can be used by several people, so too can Martian names. Don't worry, I'll be giving our Throttle a last name so you can distinguish him from other Throttles, but try to keep up for now, kk ;D

4 – For Mary-Sue issues, **Hera Ledro no longer has any wings. **Seriously, I was getting ready to take them out completely anyways, so just imagine him as described in _Rock 'n' Ride_, but without the wings. _He can still fly_, since he never used his wings for that. I'll get back to editing the _Rock 'n' Ride_ description later. Also, he no longer has a large sword (I believe they're called zweihanders?), but a smaller-than-average longsword meant for parries and quick slashes, similar to a rapier but a bit larger for better power.

5 – If you're standing in a place shaded from any type of storm with gales, you can look inside it and see the difference in the gale speeds. I've noticed this during snowstorms, so I'm applying a similar principle to Martian sandstorms.

6 – If anybody saw the episode from the 2006 revival (which, unfortunately, this fic is based on), they'll remember that Modo froze Catatonians when they escaped from them. That's what this is.

* * *

**Author's Note**

HOLY CRAP! The plot bunny hit me hard, here! This is actually only HALF of what I had planned for the first bit, and look how that turned out! That's CRAZY! I was planning on ten, maybe fifteen pages for this chapter. Half of it is thirty-frickin'-two pages!

Anyways, some shout-outs. Would've done this at the start, but that Note was getting too big. So first of all I'd like to give a big shout-out to my friend ElvenAngelMayCry, who has gotten me through this chappy. All of it. Seriously, she's awesome, so go read her stuff!

Second is to inuficcrzy, not only for being the one to get me off my (very tight… pun intended) ass and write this chappy, but also for being a major idea bouncer and her involvement in an up-coming fic of mine. Read her stuff; like me she is a Throttle-nerd, but I've never seen a Throttle-nerd portray Vinnie and Modo as accurately as she. So read it nao! Srsly, do et!

Next to GirlyGeek. Also an idea bouncer and inspirer. I'd like to take this moment to plug her series "Home With You". This fic gave me a LOT of inspiration for this installation of "Discovery: Homecoming". As a matter of fact, Raptor is loosely based on aspects of her two first female OCs, Rally and Reina. For the most part she's my own, but her firey nature and dedication are specifically based off of Rally, while her intelligence is more loosely based off of Reina (she's smart, dammit). Go read her, or else the dust-bunnies of Hera Ledro will get you!

Now I would like to take this time to give you guys an update on what I've been working on. Ignoring my school schedule, I've been working on a multitude of fics. First and foremost, I'm revamping my _Cats Don't Dance_ fan-fiction, "Cats Don't Dance: Darla's Revenge". It's gonna be completely new, completely revised, but with the same general plot. I'm fleshing everything out, going into more romantic detail (with a rating increase), and doing other stuff. I'm also working on the next chapter of _Dissonance: A Brome Fan-Fiction_. This is a fan-fiction based on the adventures of Brome after the events of _Martin the Warrior_. New characters, new plots, and new twists!

The last project I'm working on for here is a spin-off of warrior4 and Keleiah's "Everybody's Favourite Talk Show". I'm making a _Biker Mice From Mars_ edition, but I'm not going to explain the specifics here. If you want an idea of what's going to happen, read warrior4 and Keleiah's stuff.

Now what about off-the site, huh? Actually, there is another project that myself and ElvenAngelMayCry are going to be working on in the Redwall section. It's called "The Vanguard: A Tale of Redwall". It will chronicle the events of Martin's life before _Pearls of Lutra_. No more info on that, you'll have to wait and see.

I'm also working on an Online Role-Playing Video Tutorial with my co-Moderator of Project Evolution Forums, Foxxeh. We're working on getting a decent professional set of tutorials up and running for newer players, so that they can understand the basics before jumping into a veritable maelstrom of unwritten etiquettes.

Well, I think that's all for now. Hope to see you all very soon! Remember to review if you get to this point; if you've managed to waddle through this waffle, then you've got enough time to leave a few words of encouragement or advice. No flames, as I said before, or else an ominous wind will howl by your house on the morrow.

Till later readers!  
~Hera Ledro


	3. Chapter 2: Into the Inferno

_Discovery: Homecoming  
Chapter 2_

**Disclaimer**: I have never, do not, and probably never will own my beloved Throttle nor any of his cohorts nor the concept of BMFM yada-yada-yada. But one day they shall be mine…and I'll share with inuficcrzy, KLC, and GG! And then the world will tremble before us, BWAHAHAHAHA! Erhem, but until then you can have all the fun reading this unoriginal original fiction. Throttle (the white guy with two Modo-arms) and Raptor (my firey and awesome mouse-chicka) are all mine, though. Defile them and there shall be blood to pay!

I also do not own PlayStation (copyright Sony) or the SoulCalibur (copyright Namco) franchise. I do, however, own one system and one game, and I also tend to get my ass kicked on it D;

**Author's Note**

Just a (not-so-brief) AN before the story so I can address a question that will be popping up in some readers' minds by the end of this chappy: Why in the world is Carbine such a bee-otch? Well, this is an excellent question, and there is a logical explanation: STRESS! Seriously, if somebody as optimistic as I am can turn into a right jackass at work when he's being flooded with orders, then I say Carbine is perfectly at liberty to be as much of a bitch as she wants right now. I mean, look at the work on her plate: She heads the Martian resistance against the Catatonians, is responsible for just about everything both military- and political-based, and on top of all that is living on a dying world and trying to restore it as well as she can. In addition, she has to worry about the resources from the dying world; water is scarce enough, and with the Cats effectively having conquered the majority of the surface of Mars, she can't send a continuous supply train to and from the surface. So yeah, I say all the power to Carbine. Someone doing what she's doing has every right to lose their temper; she is only mortal after all.

So that's that. I'd also like to give a couple of shout-outs, not all of which are BMFM-based. Firstly I would like to shout out inuficcrzy, KLCTheBookworm, and GirlyGeek, my fellow conspirators! One of 'em doesn't know it yet, but she'll be making an appearance in my up-and-coming _Everybody's Favourite Talk Show: Biker Mice Edition_. They've also got great writing talent, so go and read their stuff. Seriously, this chapter can wait: GOGOGOGOGO!

Another shout-out to ElvenAngelMayCry, a DMC fic-author. While I'm not well-versed in DMC, I can say that her stories did capture me. In addition, we are collaborating to write a Redwall fan-fiction: The Vanguard. We've already got loads of stuff done on that, so expect to see the next chapter up soon! Hopefully D=

Finally I have a double shout-out, to warrior4 and Keleiah. Both of these authors are key figures in my _EFTS:BME_ fic and gave me permission to use their characters Rector and Fox-Kel. So he's made a lot of stuff happen. Both of them are wonderful authors, too; go read their stuff! Kelly (gotcha!) and Warrior are both tremendous comedians with their funny fics, but are also great at making epic fictions (epic being long and in-depth/well-thought as opposed to epic being just really good).

Anywhozeewhatzits, onto the chappy! This AN is way too long already D= As with last chapter, there will be an endnote system where necessary.

**Chapter Two: Into the Inferno**

Modo blanched in shock at Hera's words. Rimfire? Dying? When they finally clicked, Modo blinked the tears from his eye and asked aloud, "How are we going to get him to the base in time?" Raptor and Rimfire's Throttle both nodded; the same fear gripped their hearts.

Hera didn't answer them. Instead he looked at Throttle and said, "Regenerator, now! I need water!"

Throttle blinked behind his specs for a moment before it clicked. He whirled around and ran to his bike, unstrapping the Regenerator from its place on his bike. Placing the machine upright, Throttle pulled the trigger and blasted it straight at the sandstorm, hoping to make water from the wind and sand. A stone sank in his gut as the sand and dust turned to ice instead. He cut the blast; ice wasn't going to help!

Hera ignored the groan of dismay that came from Modo and thrust his hand at the ice. He cupped his palm upwards and turned it around, lifting it up in a fluid motion. The ice itself followed the movement and rose into the air, transmuting into water as it did so. It flowed rapidly towards Hera, who directed it like a musical conductor, until it flowed down onto Rimfire's body. The water snaked itself up Rimfire's legs, dampening the sand as it wrapped itself around his body, creating a cooling layer to lower his temperature as much as possible. Hera lifted him up potato-sack style, hefting him over his shoulder with one hand while keeping the water wrapped around Rimfire's body with the other.

Hera turned to Raptor. "Which way to the base?"

Raptor blinked and pointed south. "We should be only a click or so away from it. But how are you going to get through that storm with Rimfire?"

"Like this!" Hera jumped up and flipped backwards, sweeping his legs up and around as he clung fast(1) to Rimfire. To Throttle and the others, it appeared as though it was the force of the flip that created the massive gust of wind that blasted a space through the storm. Vinnie opened up his mouth to comment on the impossibility of what he was seeing, but Hera had already shot off at a headlong run. The opening would only be there for so long, and he had to get through before it closed.

Raptor made to call after him, but Throttle pulled her back and said, "We can ask him later! Let's get moving now and get through that storm. Vinnie, pull out the big guns! Modo, you too! Raptor, Throttle, I'm taking control right now. No, just do it!" Raptor had once again opened her maw to comment, but snapped it shut at Throttle's persistence. "We don't have time to argue about it; we've got to get there as fast as we damn well can!" Throttle grabbed the Regenerator and strapped it to his bike quickly before signalling to everyone else. "Alright people, mount up! We've gotta move!" Everybody did so and at a signal from Throttle, Vinnie and Modo started blasting a path through the sandstorm. With Throttle in the middle and Raptor and the white-furred Throttle in the rear, they made their way through the sandstorm.

* * *

Twenty minutes later the group found themselves around an open Martian subterranean tunnel. Raptor stared at the remains of the cover not five feet away: it was sliced totally in half. She looked at Throttle. "Your blue friend?"

Throttle nodded. "Probably; I've only ever seen him use his tail once, and that was to slice the barrel off a gun I pointed at him. Clean cut, too; it was either that or his sword."

"What about the burn marks here?" Rimfire's Throttle asked, tapping a scorch on one of the metal half-doors.

"Dunno; maybe he tried to blast his way in?"

Raptor laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, real smart one he is. Carbine's probably got every gun in the base pointed at his head right now. I don't care how tough he is, there's no way he can fight off twenty blasters aimed at point-blank range."

Throttle shrugged. "Right now I don't care; we need to get in there and get to Rimfire. Where's the hangar?"

Raptor moved over to a rock jutting out at odd angles from the ground. She pushed the top of it inwards and a massive door started to open from a nearby cliff. Throttle let out a grunt of frustration. "Okay, why is it that easy to open our hangar door?"

"It's not," Raptor said, remounting her bike. "It has a palm-print scanner and DNA detector. Only Martian palm-prints can work, since even the Catatonian shapeshifters can't imitate our DNA, and no other creature has a palm-print quite like ours."

Her white companion revved his engine. "It's been like that for a while; codes can be deciphered, but DNA can't." Throttle gave his engine one final rev before driving into the base. Vinnie followed suit, followed by Raptor and Modo. Throttle glanced back at the sand dunes and cliffs before entering the base himself.

* * *

Most people would have been preoccupied with the surroundings and inner recesses of the base. Vinnie even gave a whistle of approval at all the shiny metal walls and, better yet, the armada of ships that was held within. Throttle and Modo, on the other hand, were a bit more pre-occupied with the fact that, true to Raptor's prediction, a score of Resistance fighters were surrounding Hera Ledro with their weapons trained on his head. Modo growled and moved forward to stand beside Hera, bowling the other mice this way and that. Throttle was no less subtle in his approach.

"What is going on here?" he yelled. Five of the fighters turned around and set their sights on him. Throttle fumed. "Put your weapons down," he ordered. When they didn't respond, he slit his eyes. "I said now, soldiers. Who gave you orders to hold this person prisoner?"

"I did," Carbine called. Throttle looked around for the voice, eventually looking up and seeing Carbine on a catwalk. She jumped down and landed right in front of Throttle. "What would you expect, Commander? He forced his way into our base."

Hera heaved in indignity. "You wouldn't open the door because of your damned protocols, even though I was trying to save one of your Commanders!"

Carbine stared frostily at him. "For all we know, you could have hurt him yourself. You had no alibis, and had an unconscious Rimfire slung over your back. What, pray tell, did you expect me to do? Just let you waltz into our base and give you the opportunity to open fire on us?"

Hera stared levelly back. "Obviously it would be more intelligent to secure the Commander's safety first, and then keep me in a cell or another secluded place for questioning. This, I would argue, is far from the diplomatic greeting that Stoker would have given a stranger."

Carbine's hackles rose as she shouted back. "Don't even go there; for all I know you're a cat spy sent to capture the Regenerator. And don't even mention that you were there during the communication between us when you were on Earth; you could have been a cat spy back then."

Throttle stood akimbo and glared at Carbine. "Well I'm acting as his alibi right now, Carbine. He's with us; he's NOT a cat spy. Know why? Because the Regenerator's right there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at his bike, where the Regenerator was strapped. "If he was a cat spy, he would have used any of the opportunities between now and when I met him to steal Regenerator."

Carbine shifted her icy gaze to Throttle, her voice laced with venom. "Oh really? When would he have had the chance, if indeed you were all together?"

"Well," Hera interjected, "I could have stolen it from him when he was effectively broken and wrecked in the cave near the Grand Canyon."

Throttle nodded. "He could have left me to die out there, or at least left me as fish fodder. Instead he helped me and helped keep the Regenerator away from the fishes and the cats."

Vinnie snarked. "Huh, he's been cool. And come on sweetheart, even you don't think you could kick his ass and ours, do ya? We're the Biker Mice from Mars, the baddest mamma-jammas in the solar system. Remember last time you accused us of treason?"

Carbine considered this. She heaved a sigh and signalled the fighters to lower their weapons. "Back to your duties," she dismissed. To Hera and the other travellers, she said, "Follow me; I want a briefing of everything. Throttle, bring the Regenerator. Modo, you're at leave to visit Commander Rimfire, but I want you to join us in my office as soon as you're done." Solemnly, Modo walked towards the med bay, indicated by a flashing gentle flame. Throttle nodded and moved to unstrap the Regenerator; Hera glared fiercely at the mice who had only previously been threatening him with weapons. With the Regenerator in tow, the group followed Carbine to her office. For some reason, Throttle couldn't shake the feeling that today was going to get worse.

* * *

Carbine sat behind her desk, drumming her fingers against one another as she stared at Throttle, Vinnie, and Hera in turn. Raptor and Rimfire's Throttle had been given leave to attend to their commander. Carbine shut her eyes briefly and sighed. Leaning back in her chair, she said, "I apologise for seeming to be aggressively protective, but you must understand that we're reaching a climax in the war; tensions are higher than ever, and to counter that I have to show that I have everything under control." She looked at Hera apologetically, but puzzled at the same time. "What was your name again?"

Hera Ledro inclined his head slightly and replied, "Hera Ledro. And you are Carbine de Martes, niece of Stoker de Martes?"Carbine nodded and Hera continued. "I am sorry for the loss of your uncle; had I been able to prevent it, I would have."

Carbine's hard visage softened slightly. "Yes, his loss was great for Mars, but even greater for us, wasn't it, Throttle?" Throttle stiffened, but did not reply. "Stoker was a great mouse," Carbine sighed, sitting up straight. "But he wouldn't have wanted us to sit here and wallow in pity and self-loathing while there was work to be done. Brief me; what has been going on?"

* * *

Modo sat down and held onto Rimfire's hand with his flesh hand. He was seated beside the med-bed Rimfire lay in. A series of tubes were connected to him, injecting a non-toxic cooling fluid into his body to preserve a stable temperature. _Dammit kid…don't you die on me now_, he thought, squeezing Rimfire's hand. _If it would help, I'd give my other arm…You're a tough kid, Rimfire; you can get through this. You didn't make it through the Plutarkian invasion just to get beaten by a stupid fever._

The curtains parted with a scraping of the fastenings, and a doctor came in. She placed a writing board on the foot of Rimfire's bed and looked at Modo. "You're Modo, right? Rimfire's uncle?"

"Yes ma'am," Modo replied, straightening and wiping his tears. He looked at Rimfire's still frame and looked back at the doctor. "Tell me ma'am…will he live?"

The doctor smiled. "My name is Dr. Renfield(2), but you can call me Tareece. And as for Rimfire, he'll be fine. He simply overheated from sheer exhaustion; it's a good job your friend got him here on time. If he'd been delayed another ten minutes or so, I don't think we could have helped him."

Modo cringed, thinking just how close to death Rimfire had come. "So he'll be fine, then?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, he'll be fine. He's your nephew; there's strong blood running through his veins. And you know what they say: 'The blood is the life'."

Modo cocked an eyeridge. "Huh?"

Tareece smiled and waved her hand. "It's an old Terran religious saying, but no less true because of it." A look of concern drew itself across her face as Modo bowed his head back down. "Don't worry; he'll be alright. As I understand it, Carbine wants you for debriefing."

Modo nodded and looked at Rimfire. _Rimfire…I'll be back li'l bro._ "Thank you, ma'am," Modo said, rising. "Please take good care of him; he's the only family I have left, besides my grey-furred momma."

Tareece held out her hand, which Modo took and shook. "Please, call me Tareece. And don't worry, he's in good hands."

Modo blushed. "Yes, Tareece, ma'am. I'll be going now. And thanks again." With a wave, Modo jogged out of the curtain-enclosed area.

Tareece sat down on the bed and brushed Rimfire's bangs out of his eyes. "You're a lucky one," she said wistfully, "to have such a caring uncle. I wish all families were so tight-knit."

* * *

Carbine paced up and down her office. She rubbed her temples and looked at Throttle. "So let me get this straight: you found the Regenerator, ran off with it, got captured by Plutarkians then escaped and were saved by Hera." Throttle nodded an affirmative. Carbine narrowed her eyes at him calculatingly. "And you said your eyes...they're fixed?"

Throttle nodded and removed his specs. "They're fixed alright. Wish it never happened, but it did, and now I can see better than ever. Karbunkle even put in some extra stuff that lets me see infrared and night vision."

"It makes sense," Carbine said, folding her arms. "After all, if they were intending to use a more powerful mind bender beam on you, they were obviously thinking that you'd work as a great spy. But you escaped before they could?"

Hera smiled smugly. "Yes, and he took the entire spaceship down with him too."

"Wish I'd been there to see that," Vinnie groused, folding his arms. "I would pay to see anybody shoot down a Plutarkian cruiser; I would pay to do it!"

"Yes, but you're getting _paid_ to do it," Carbine snapped. "So stop complaining. Your story is no less strange: you, Modo, and Charley were chasing after Throttle, then Cataclysm comes out of the blue and kidnaps her?"

Vinnie's clenched his fists, but he kept his voice even. "That's right. And we're gonna get 'im for it, too."

Carbine turned to Hera. "That still leaves you; what's your story?"

"My story is my own," Hera said. "It is of no consequence, and Throttle and Vinnie have already given you an account of my doings since meeting Throttle. Before then I had no part to play in this story."

Carbine narrowed her eyes frostily. "Don't play innocent; your story is just as important as theirs. How do you know Stoker? Why do you care about the Regenerator?"

Hera chuckled; it was a deep, mirthless laugh that sent chills down Vinnie's spine. "Those aren't apparent? I know Stoker from before you were born, or else you'd know who I was, and I gave him a hand whenever possible while he was making a new Regenerator. As for why I care about the Regenerator, that's obvious: I want the Martians to win against the Catatonians."

"Why?" Carbine challenged. "What does our war mean to you?"

Hera was growing impatient with Carbine. _She just doesn't know when to quit, does she? Well, I can't say as I'd act any differently; she is in the highest position of command here, after all, and she has a lot of responsibility. _Not unkindly, he replied, "Isn't the fact that I helped build it reason enough?" Carbine's look was all the answer he needed. "Well, how about the fact that this is a war of conquest? If it was a war based on morality or religion or some such nonsense, I wouldn't be involved. But the Catatonians want to conquer Mars. Conquest, no matter the reason, is wrong; I will not abide by cruelty, especially with a probable genocide resulting.

Carbine snorted with derision. "Oh, you expect me to believe that, right? That's such a sap story; why should you care about the destruction of our race?"

"Suffice to say that my own race is also on the brink of extinction, and I will not stand by while the same thing happens to another race." Then, in an icy tone, he said "Other than that, you'll have nothing from me; you haven't shown yourself to be trustworthy."

Carbine's eyes widened. "Me? Untrustworthy? What about you? You won't even tell us about yourself, yet you know quite a bit about us."

"Throttle is trustworthy," Hera stated. "Vincent is trustworthy. Modo, Raptor, Rimfire, and his Throttle are trustworthy. You have not shown yourself to be trusting, and are therefore not trustworthy; you are judgemental, pessimistic, and possibly even prejudiced. They are not."

"There are dangerous enemies to be made here while keeping secrets such as yours," Carbine warned.

Hera did not buckle under her frosty gaze. "I'm a warrior, not a politician; my job is to defend, regardless of whether they trust me or not. You can help me, but you will not hinder me. I'm here to help Mars and save Charley, and if I have to go against you to do it, I will. But it won't come to that will it? Mars needs all the help it can get right now. You won't turn away someone like me just because you're not certain if you believe my origins." Hera stared intensely into Carbine's narrowed eyes. _She's in no position to turn away any help, especially not from one such as me. She's seen something of what I can do, and to turn away that advantage would spell disaster for the Martians._

Out of the side of his mouth, Vinnie muttered to Throttle, "And you think I have a big ego; get a load of this guy! He's calling Carbine's bluff!" Throttle nodded, hoping to the gods that Hera's gambit didn't go awry.

Carbine narrowed her eyes again, glaring daggers at Hera. "Fine; keep your secrets. But while you're here, you operate under Martian law, understood? You are not our kind and we are not yours, but this is our war you're fighting in, so you'll do things our way, got it?"

Hera stared levelly back. "I'll do what's necessary. Right now that seems to be acceding to your command, but if your commanders order something as boneheaded as the storming of a fully-armed and stocked base, I will remove myself from your command and act as I see fit. Do _you_ understood?" Carbine nodded back at him; he was right. She hated him for it, but he was right.

Carbine made her way back to her desk as a knock sounded on the door. "Enter," was all that was needed for Modo to enter and shut the door behind him. "Ah, Modo. Excellent timing, do you have anything to add to their stories?"

Modo blinked. "Stories, General? Oh, you mean their briefings? Probably not; Vinnie's told you all about how Charley was kidnapped?" Carbine nodded and Modo shrugged. "Then no, I don't think so. Woulda been here sooner, but I couldn't find the place."

Carbine waved her hand and leaned back in her chair. "Alright then, dismissed. Throttle, would you stay a while? I want to talk to you about something."

Vinnie humphed, but was shoved out the door by Modo. Hera followed suit, sending a mental _Good luck_ to Throttle.

* * *

When the door was closed behind them and they were well out of earshot, Vinnie turned around and shot a middle finger at it. He yelped in pain and lurched face-first onto the floor as both Hera and Modo smacked him upside the head. Modo looked at Hera, amused. "You learn fast," he chuckled. Hera just shrugged.

"You didn't hafta do that you know," Vinnie muttered, picking himself up off the ground. "The bitch deserves it. Throttle should totally ditch her."

Hera frowned. "That seems rather unkind Vincent. I can understand disliking her, but there's no cause for wanting them to break up."

"Actually, I agree with chrome dome for once," Modo said, staring back at the door. "Throttle could do a lot better than Carbine." At Hera's suspicious look, Modo explained, "Those two have had a rocky relationship."

"How rocky?"

Vinnie snorted. "Imagine your spaceship bouncing and scraping through a mountain range. That's pretty much what their relationship is like, but Throttle's the one that's working his ass off to keep it going. It's a miracle he hasn't already crashed and burned. She leads him on like a little puppy, and he never learns."

Hera shifted his gaze back to the door. "So why hasn't he left her yet." Silence ruled for a few moments. When no answer was forthcoming, Hera turned and asked, "Guys?"

Modo shifted uncomfortably. "Well…it's a long story. Pretty much all Throttle's life, actually."

Hera's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "He's been dating her his whole life?"

"No," Modo said. "No, if that was the case, he'd've left her a long time ago. But the reason he's dating her is because of his life."

Vinnie hesitated. "Well…you see, Throttle's never really been trusted, and it all started when he was a kid."

"Throttle is the last known member of his clan," Modo clarified. "Used to be him 'n' Harley till Mace kidnapped her. Before that – heck, before Stoker took him in – he was always looked at as the black sheep of the clan. His parents were master burglars; smart and tough. Throttle's kinda taken after them like that; even as a kid he was a bit smarter than most. He was only eight when his parents were caught, and then everybody started to think that because he was smart like his parents, he'd turn out like 'em."

"They're kinda right," Vinnie ventured. "He's pretty damn crafty, but he was just a kid. Nobody would take him in, and the Martian government wouldn't find him foster parents. He spent a week roaming the streets of Brimstone before Stoker found him and took him in. Kid was half starved by then; it was a blow for him, too. His parents always had a lot of money because of their little 'side-jobs'. He went from living the good life to lookin' for scraps."

"Stoker took him in and raised him," Modo continued. "It was great, too, since Stoker had a niece that Throttle could play with. She was only a year and a bit older than him, too, so it worked out well. Carbine wasn't really a bully back then; that happened when she joined the Freedom Fighters. But when Stoker was caring for Throttle, the Plutarkians came out into the open and really started their invasion."

"Because the Freedom Fighters were originally an underground political group," Hera interjected. "I met Stoker when he joined them, so I know all about the history."

"Yeah, well it wasn't all glory," Vinnie said. He'd adopted a dark tone as he spoke. "See, Throttle's clan was a low-class clan, and the low classes got hit the hardest by the Plutarkian invasion. Outside of Harley and her family, Throttle became one of the last of his kind(3). He didn't really care much, since he considered Stoker's clan more his clan, but the laws back then forbade inter-clan marriages. You could adopt kids into a clan and change their clan name, but most of the time the children kept their clan name; most people believe that changing the clan name is a way of erasing the identity of the person.

"Stoker was there as much as he could be for Throttle, but that wasn't always easy. Sometimes he had to bring Throttle along to the missions and leave him in the base or something with the guards."

"Throttle was always a hard worker," Modo said. "While he was there he'd help out around the base doing whatever he could, and when the guards were on break he'd practice Martian chess or checkers with them. Throttle's strength has always been in tactics, and a lot of people underestimated him because he was a kid. Kicked the guards' cans a few times before they wised up and took him seriously."

Vinnie flexed his arm. "Yeah, but Throttle's never been as good-lookin' as this studly mouse."

Both Hera and Modo rolled their eyes, and Modo pushed Vinnie into the wall before continuing. "Anyways, Stoker had a little surprise when Throttle was ten or so. See, he thought he could leave Throttle home alone once he turned ten, so he did; up and left for a meeting and told Throttle to stick around home. Well, he got home and found Throttle in his office, drawing all over his hidden assault plans."

Vinnie laughed. "Man, Stoker lost it. Grabbed Throttle by his tail and tossed him into his room, told the kid he was grounded till he came back and killed 'im, then went to try and salvage what he could of his plans. But man was he surprised when he saw his plans. Throttle wasn't doodling, he was fixing. Stoker told us he'd been trying to figure out a way to successfully flank the Plutarkians, but had no idea how. Throttle was in there making changes, and he found a way to get a decent flanking manoeuvre in."

"Make 'em think the main force is there when it's really coming around from the back," Modo said. A smug grin was plastered on his face. "Fishheads are stupid; if there's more than twenty or so people around, they think it's the main force. Throttle used that to make up a distraction plan, then had the main force come around the back. Stoker was totally licked; he couldn't figure out how the hell some punk kid figured that out. So, he called Throttle back out to finish the changes, and when he did he totally blew Stoker away. Hidden weapons, using the terrain; man, Throttle had it all."

"He kicked Stoker's tail in chess later on, too," Vinnie interjected smugly. "Stoker said it was his proudest moment ever."

"Throttle made it in to the Freedom Fighters four years later, just a month or so after me," Modo added. "He begged and begged Stoker to let him join, since Stoker was the head of the Fighters then, but he was only fourteen, right? Everyone told Stoke he'd be nuts to let the kid join. Eventually, though, Throttle fought his way through. Made it, too; passed all the tests, beat all the physical exams, everything. Made it in at the record age of fourteen. Nobody's ever gotten in earlier than fifteen, even after that."

"Hey, I got in at fifteen," Vinnie huffed. "You're not even supposed to be thought of before sixteen."

"Yeah, but it wasn't easy for Throttle. A lot of people thought he got in only because he was Stoker's kid, and he had to fight a lot of the higher-ups. Even when they realized he was made of the right stuff, though, they started on him 'cause of his parents. Even the women wouldn't look at him right."

Hera leaned against the wall. "What do you mean? He's good looking enough and has the personality to attract just about any girl."

"Yeah, but they couldn't get past the fact that his parents were thieves. They called 'im a bad seed, said that they were too good for the likes of that thieving trash."

"Carbine was the only one who would give him the light of day," Vinnie said. "See, he pretty much grew up with her once Stoker took him in, right? When she started showing interest in him, he just flew into her arms."

"He wanted some love is all," Modo said. "But Carbine's never been that touchy-feely. Hell, she can be real cold when she wants to be. Whenever they fought, she would rub it in that she was the only one who would even look twice at Throttle. I don't know if she did know how much that digs him, but she probably did. It's been like that with them ever since, and Throttle always comes back."

Hera frowned. "I'm curious; how do you two know all this? Are you guys really that close?"

Modo laughed mirthlessly. "We'd take a shell for each other, but we know all this because we were there for most of it. And I, unlike Vinnie, can actually put two and two together."

"He is better at relationships than I am," Vinnie acceded. "We tried to talk Throttle out of the relationship for the first while, but you can't really blame him for sticking. He's been on his own his whole life, it's only natural to want someone there with you."

Hera opened his mouth to comment when Carbine's office erupted with the sounds of yelling. Modo, Vinnie, and Hera shared a look before rushing back to the office.

* * *

Throttle slammed his fist on Carbine's desk. "What do you mean unfaithful? When have I ever done anything for anyone except Mars? I've always worked my tail off for her!"

"You blackmailed me with the Regenerator!" she screamed back. "You put our entire planet at risk just for some Earther woman!"

Throttle's growled dangerously. "Don't you start laying blame on Charley; she got kidnapped because of me. It's my fault, so I'm going to fix it."

"Well it wouldn't've happened if you hadn't run off with your tail between your legs!"

"Don't go there Carbine; I've already justified what I did. And listen to you; you're accusing me of fucking all this up, but you sent an escort team that Vinnie could have beaten single-handedly. If that force we ran into had been even a big bigger, we –"

"But it wasn't, and it doesn't matter. What matters is that you put Mars at risk for a Terran woman."

"Holy gods Carbine, why is it so wrong for me to put my friend's life as a priority for once? When have I ever thought of anybody except you or Mars?"

Carbine was about to retaliate when the door jerked open. Without looking, Throttle turned on his heel and pushed past the intruders.

Vinnie and Modo stared after Throttle while Hera glared at Carbine. "Is there a problem in here?" he asked icily.

Carbine shook her head and sat down hard behind her desk. "Tactical meeting."

* * *

Vinnie, being last out of the room, slammed the door behind him and started after Throttle. Modo, however, grabbed him and held him back. "Hey, hold on there; no reason to start running off after him."

"No reason?" Vinnie snapped, walking forward. "Did you hear that? 'Tactical meeting' my tail. She's gone and had it out with him again." Hera and Modo made pace to keep up with him.

"The relationship did sound rather…unhealthy," Hera admitted, glaring at the door.

"Forget helping Throttle," Vinnie growled, "we should just beat the tar out of the 'good General'."

Modo looked back at the door with a glowing eye. "Yeah, we should. I don't know what in the name of Mars is going through her head, but she needs to check the attitude."

"Maybe you should go talk to Throttle, Modo." Hera's eyes met Modo's eye. "Give him some steam to work off; spar with him, do a guy talk, punch one another on the shoulder, just do something to get him to release all that anger. He looks like he's ready to blow his top."

"Yeah," Modo agreed, staring back down the hall. "Maybe I should…chrome dome here isn't much of a talker anyways."

Suddenly, Raptor sidled up from around a corner they'd passed, startling Vinnie by touching him on the shoulder. "Calm down, Vincent." She gave Hera and Modo a dark look. "Look, I heard everything. Maybe I should talk to him."

Modo raised an eyeridge. "You? Why would you talk to him? You barely even know him."

"True, but girls like us are much better talkers than lugs like you. Plus you won't stand a chance against a pissed off Throttle; he's liable to rip you to pieces in his mood. I, on the other hand, have a much better chance; I'm a woman and I'm smaller and faster than you, meaning I can dodge better."

Hera visibly weighed the choices. "She does have a point, really. I've learned two things about women: first is that they're much better talkers than men are. Second is that you –"

"Never wanna make one mad if they're holding a pan? OW!" Vinnie yelped as Hera hit him upside the head again.

"Is this going to become a regular habit?" Hera tutted.

Modo ignored the two as the verbal swordplay commenced. Instead he said to Raptor, "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, ma'am. Just be careful; he doesn't usually lose his temper, but it's something scary when he does." Raptor nodded and took off after Throttle.

* * *

With a strained grunt, Throttle laid into the red hanging bag. _God dammit_, he thought. _What the hell is wrong with that woman? What is so wrong about helping my friends?_ With a grunt, he stepped back and kicked straight into the bag, ripping the fabric and sending the contents spilling out. Throttle panted heavily, moving on to the next bag. _Dammit…Charlene, I'm sorry. I'll get you back babe, I swear. Even Carbine won't stop me!_

__

What is the deal with that anyways? Carbine knows Charley! And even if I am thinking about Charley-girl first, it's not like I've gone out of my way to sleep with her.

Well fuck it. Who's she to tell me who to prioritize? She's never had the friends to know what it means; always sticking herself behind her desk and her papers, or rushing out like Vinnie on the battlefield.

_And since when haven't I been faithful to her? I spent years hoping to get back to her, leaving everyone else alone and shutting everyone out just so I could be with her. Then she slaps the word traitor on my forehead and sentences me to death. Even after we save all of Mars again, she still holds that fucking grudge because I decided to stay down on Earth with Charley and fight off Limburger._

_But what if you really do like Charley?_ a voice asked in his head.

_So what if I do; it's not like she's my girlfriend or mate or anything. I'll always love Charlene, but why does Carbine have to go and blow it up like that? Besides, it's not like I love her like a girlfriend._ It took a moment for Throttle to process what he'd just thought, then he returned to his bag-pummelling with a renewed vigour.

Throttle was oblivious to everything except himself and his punching bag, so he did not notice when Raptor entered. She noticed him, but more importantly she noticed the series of bursted punching bags and the sizable mound of red sand beside them. Bracing herself, Raptor walked forward and tapped Throttle on the shoulder.

Throttle hadn't heard her. Out of instinct, he swung back, coming out of his reverie when he heard a yelp. When the red haze lifted from his vision, he saw Raptor crouched with her hands in a defensive position above her head. He blinked, suddenly thinking the worst. _Gods…I hit a lady!_ "Gods, Raptor, I…I…"

Raptor rose up and poked his chest. "And just what the hell do you think you're doing? You almost clocked me in the face!" She let the admonishment sink in a moment before continuing. "I should think that you'd have better control over your emotions. It's Vinnie's job to go off the handle; it's my job to go off the handle. You, however, have no right to start PMSing like an Earth woman."

When Throttle finally found his voice, all he could do was apologize for nearly hitting her. Raptor simply slapped him lightly on the muzzle to shut him up. "Hey, I'm a big girl, I can handle myself. Not like those punching bags there."

Throttle stared down at his boots sheepishly, noting the shredded bags to the side. Taking advantage of Throttle's inclination to silence, Raptor pressed on. "Hey, why don't we talk? A good rap session will let out all the stress." When Throttle mumbled a negative, Raptor narrowed her eyes. She could push him. All that mattered was finding the right buttons. "So what, you're just going to let Carbine win?"

Silence. Raptor was becoming annoyed now; he was clamming up tighter than a Plutarkian purse. "Hmph, and here Rimfire was always talking about you guys. Said you three were the best, and you were the best leader ever." Poking him on the chest for emphasis, she berated him. "Are you telling me that all Rimfire's talk was just hype? That you're not the tough kick-ass leader he said you were? The General is pulling your tail out by its roots, and you're just taking it lying down!"

Unbeknownst to her, however, Throttle's blood was beginning to boil. Trying his damndest to keep the growl out of his voice, Throttle said, "Hey, Carbine and I got history. And I'm dealing the way I've always dealed, and it's always worked too. So with respect, Raptor, back off."

"I will do no such thing," she growled. "It's obviously not working if you guys are getting that pissed off at one another when you meet after being away from each other for years on end. Open your eyes, Shades; it's not working. Why don't you just deal with Carbine?"

"Because she's…Carbine." Throttle clamped his fists tightly, digging his nails into his palms. "Look, let's not go on about this now, okay? We'll have your little rap session after the war, not in it. We can't afford to have tensions like this, and this will only get me pissed off at you."

_Stubborn as a cat_, Raptor thought bitterly. "Fine, we'll have it later. But we will be having it, understood Shades?" Throttle nodded curtly. "Good. Now come on. We've gotta go find the guys."

Still coming down off his renewed rage, Throttle said, "They're probably in Modo's room. He's got one of those Earth PlayStation things, and Vinnie loves video games."

Raptor rolled her eyes. "Oh yay; let's hear it for video games. Stupid Terrans…"

* * *

The silence was awkward as Throttle and Raptor walked down the hall to Modo's room. Awkward for Throttle, anyways. "So why do you care?"

Raptor didn't look at him when she replied. "Care about what?"

"Me and Carbine. You've got nothing to do with my team beyond this last mission."

Raptor shrugged. "Hey, it makes your teammates upset, and it's never good when a team gets that pissed off over something. Besides, Vinnie doesn't look so cute when he's sad."

Throttle coughed at the same time he snickered, making Raptor give him a curious look. "Sorry, but I find it hard to believe that you think Vinnie's cute. You don't seem the type."

Raptor snorted. "Oh please, he's cute. Hell, he's gorgeous; every woman on Mars can see that. That doesn't mean I'm into him. More to a man than looks, you know."

"But he _is_ cute?"

"He is."

The silence came again, though it was not so awkward. When they came to the door, Throttle made to knock. His knuckles came within an inch of the door when they heard a groan from inside, followed by a laugh of triumph. Raptor cocked an eyebrow and Throttle sniggered. "Probably Modo kicking somebody's ass on that game of his." Raptor rolled her eyes and opened the door.

"Man, what is taking those two so long?" Vinnie's voice whined through the entryway. "Raptor should've had Throttle back ages ago." When Throttle shut the door, Vinnie's voice came again. "Well it's about time! Get in here, you idiots; I've had to watch Modo kick my ass every game!"

Throttle laughed and walked into the Spartan living space. Positioned on the couch were Modo and Hera, both with a wireless game controller in their hands. Vinnie was glaring grumpily at Throttle from another couch beside the first. "So, you figure all your stuff out?"

Raptor leaned on the arm of the couch beside Modo and Throttle sat down on the same couch as Vincent. "Later, Vinnie; still working on it. So what's going on here?"

"Same as usual; Modo's been kicking my ass at this stupid SoulCalibur game, and now Hera says he wants to give it a go."

Raptor picked up the game case on the floor. "'SoulCalibur Three'? There's three of these things?"

Vinnie was about to answer when the screen flashed and Modo let out yet another victory cry. Hera groaned and lay back in the couch. "How the hell are you doing all those moves?"

Modo buffed his metal fingers on his armour and blew on them. "Talent, bro, pure talent."

"Button masher…" Hera groused.

"Now you know my pain," Vinnie affirmed.

* * *

1 – Yes, this is correct grammar. The terms "hold hard" and "hold fast" are quite literally the exact same thing and used in the exact same contexts.

2 – In order to mask their true clan names, Martians will often use a name found in human literature or media as a cover.

3 – OMG JON YOU'RE SUE-FUCKING THROTTLE! Yeah, well deal with it. By the end of it he may or may not be the last of his clan; I've yet to come to an absolute decision on that. Plot bunnies are wonderful, don't you think?

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Heehee, I love literary references =) See if you can catch the _Dracula_ reference in here (and don't think of the movie, please D= ).

Yes, I'm aware the writing style is relatively different this time around (and also how disappointingly short this chapter is; I expected it to be a lot longer). I'm taking the advice of Stephen King and trying to cut all the goddamn adverbs out. I do find that they plague good writing, so I'm refining a new style of writing. I'm also aware of some blatantly chauvinist language in this chapter. Don't sue me please; the characters are absolutely flooded in testosterone. Can you really blame them?

On another note, I recently saw the 2006 version of Rimfire, and I must say…-HISSSSSSS- What did they do to him? He was always so great and…great, but now he's this twerpy little kid who sounds like he JUST hit puberty! And…and…-HISSSSS- SERIOUSLY! Why do they do that to characters D= He was NEVER that clumsy – he was in fact quite a competent kid – and he…he…GRAAAAAAGGHHH! THIS is what happens when you get idiot writers who don't do their research before they consider themselves arrogant enough to delve into the canon, only to EVENTUALLY WRECK IT AND EVERYTHING IN IT! RAAAAAAWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRR!

The sad part is that I'm not even a Rimfire fanboy; I can't imagine how they're feeling right now.

Okay. Enough of that. I'll just cry in my pillow tonight, since he was one of my favourite characters EVER. Though that being said, I might just have my first drink; I'll need it after this depressing stunt the writers decided to take. Bah humbuggery! –stomps off—

Hera: Erm…right. Well, since Jon's gone off, I'll do the rest of this AN.

Jake: Why can't I do it?

Hera: Shush. It's because you're not in the story. I am, so clam it.

Jake: Hmph. –stomps off after Jon—

Hera: Anyways…

Hera: We apologise for the rather late update. Jon has been quite busy, and for the longest time he was battling with whether or not it was right to use…gah…

Jake: -pokes head back in- Come on, say it!

Hera: Grrr…MAGIC! There, I said it!

Jake: Yes!

Hera: -huffs- Yes, Jon wasn't sure if it was right to put in magic in here. I would disagree with it as being magic, however; Jon has made up some rather interesting scientific explanations for the phenomena which you might view as being magical.

Jon: -comes back in- Oh shut up. It's magic, plain and simple. If you want to hear the explanations that HERA is so dead-set on making (he absolutely hates the idea of magic, you see), then you can contact me, and I will provide them to you. In any case, be sure that as I have invented the Allsies, I have consequently invented a biology for them based in rudimentary neural and musculo-skeletal system principles.

Jon: Oh yeah…read and review please =D I always enjoy reading constructive reviews (not just things that say "Update please" or the like; seriously, that is abhorrently unproductive and a waste of your time and mine), and I always reply to them. I especially love constructive criticism; I can't learn from my mistakes if you don't tell them to me, after all. Be warned, though: I have a very sadistic army of dust bunnies that will infest the computers of flamers, and thereby torch their computer through overheating! Hah! So flame and BURN IN FIRE!

Jon: That is all. Till next time, mes amis!


End file.
